


A Father's Love

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11236842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: In which the World’s Finest realize that, just maybe, they loved the other’s children just as much as their own.





	A Father's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Much like that Lois fic on Mother’s Day, this wasn’t really supposed to be a dad’s day fic, but why not. It’s been sitting finished on my phone for about eight months so. haha. I don’t know what the threat was. Aliens or something, and the fog/smoke acting as like a dome barrier. Jon put Damian in the dumpster to protect him, and then left to continue the fight. The dads find the aliens later and kick the shit out of them. This is, as always, some garbagy and useless floof.

He calls. No one answers.

And it's scary. Even for Superman, it is absolutely terrifying, this silence. This fog where he can't see two goddamn feet in front of himself.

And the boys were missing.

It takes everything he has, not to call their real names. To shout _Superboy_ and _Robin_ and not _Jon_ or _Damian_.

He doesn't know if they're injured. He doesn't even truly know what happened. Just that his son, and his best friend's son – his proverbial, maybe _godson_ – stopped answering every call, every page.

He swallows the lump in his throat, ignores the visions of funerals and too-small caskets, and shouts again. Walks slowly, listens carefully. For anything and everything.

And...there?

It's faint and weak, and he almost misses it in the sizzling fog and sounds of building debris still falling, but. It's a heartbeat. A heartbeat he _knows_. Slow and injured and barely there, but it's a heartbeat. It's a breath.

It's _hope_.

He follows the sound, rushes into a dark alleyway that's still suffocating with smoke and mist. Listens harder before walking cautiously towards a dumpster in the back corner.

He finds Damian inside.

Curled up in pain, bleeding and bruised but _alive_ nonetheless, he finds Damian inside.

Without thinking he reaches down, checks for physical proof of that pulse. Doesn't bother to check for consciousness, just pushes through the seeping blood to confirm what his powers sensed and feel that pulse.

It's still truly there.

He exhales in relief, bending further into the dumpster even as he presses his communicator.

"I foun-"

"I found Jon."

Clark hesitates at Bruce's announcement for just a second, before swallowing the lump in his throat, and smiling a little as he gathered poor Damian into his arms. Damian whined a little in pain, and Clark, despite his worry, instantly tried to soothe him.

"It's okay, I've got you, son." He whispered. Only for Damian, but loud enough for Bruce to hear over the comms too. "Stand by, Batman, we're coming to you."

He focused on his friend's heartbeat, didn't dare listen for Jon's. Knew it'd be like Damian's, like the baby already in his arms. Weak and frail and probably dying.

And as he ran through the foggy streets, continued on to the harbour, where Bruce's heartbeat got louder with every passing second, he tried to ignore the most obvious questions.

What happened? How bad was it? How injured were their boys?

Why were they so far apart? Why was Damian in a goddamn _dumpster_?

Damian whined again, and Clark heard him try to steel himself against the pain. Clark ignored it, though. Coddled him as fiercely as he could instead.

"You're okay." Clark blindly promised, kissing Damian's head before hooking his chin over it. "You'll be okay, kiddo. Let's just get to Jonno and your dad..."

Despite the danger of flying in such thick mist, Clark found himself doing it, anything to reunite with his boy. Anything to reunite this boy with his own father.

They weren't as far away as Clark thought, though farther than what was comfortable. After all, if Bruce was still where he'd found Jon, that was an awfully large distance for his boy and Damian to be separated by.

Bruce's heartbeat pounded in his ears. He was right on top of them, but due to the fog, couldn't see a thing.

"Batman!" He called out instead, looking around, with both normal and x-ray vision. "Bat-"

"Here." His voice was barely a whisper, and coming from the left. Clark looked towards the sound, and found Bruce walking towards him, appearing more solid in the fog with every step. Slowly, like magic. "We're...we're here."

Clark's eyes immediately darted down to Jon, cocooned carefully in Bruce's arms. Just as carefully as Damian in his own.

His son looked lifeless.

And for a moment, he forgot his powers. Forgot everything but _his son_ and gasped:

"Is he-"

"He's fine." Bruce cut off, turning Jon outwards a little bit, revealing the large S on his jacket. No tears in the clothes, and Clark could only see a little bit of blood, a few smaller bruises. And finally - he let his ears search for that little heartbeat. It was weak, maybe weaker than Damian's, but it was there. "Just unconscious. Energy drained by some sort of weapon, if anything."

"He could still die from that." Clark countered. Not harshly or loudly. Just a statement of fact. A reminder to himself.

"True. But I don't think it's severe enough. Some fluids, maybe a little sunlight and a couple stitches, I think he'll perk right up." Bruce was listing clinically, and Clark knew he was trying to keep himself and Clark calm. To make sure neither panicked. Clark saw it in his friend's eyes, though, when he looked up, and saw Damian lifeless in his own arms. "...Robin?"

"I found him." Clark whispered. "He's here."

Bruce watched his child for a moment. The shifting of his chest as he attempted a shallow breath. The blood oozing from wounds.

"But he's not well." Bruce surmised. "He could be dying."

"Probably is." Clark said plainly, because if there was one thing he prided himself in, it was not lying to Bruce. Not if he could help it. "But he's got a chance, Bruce. They both have a chance, we just need to get to the Watchtower."

Bruce nodded. Swallowed nervously. Glanced up to Clark's face. "Want me to take him? I'm sure you'd rather carry your own son anyway..."

And that was true. Of course it was. Clark wanted to care for his own boy just as clearly as Bruce wanted to for Damian.

But still. They had to be logical. Now more than ever.

"More movement than necessary might aggravate the injuries. Make things worse."  Clark hummed. "I can carry Damian if you carry Jon for me."

Clark knew Bruce understood the significance of that trust. And it never failed to amuse Clark, how surprised Bruce was every time he was reminded that he earned it. That he _had_ earned it, long ago.

But Clark still found himself smiling, as Bruce looked down at Jon, with all the same love, care and adoration as he would Damian or any of his children, and bundled Jon - a superpowered child - tighter and more protectively into his arms.

"F-Father...?" Damian suddenly wheezed. Bruce stumbled forward, but realized he could do nothing with Jon in his grasp. Damian's eyes fluttered, and he tried to look up. "S-Superman?"

"Your father's right here." Clark smiled, shifted so his cape slipped over his shoulder, and carefully wrapped it around Damian's body. "But I've got you, son. You're safe."

And Damian seemed to instantly relax at the feel of the cape holding him together. His eyes fluttered as he leaned his head against Clark's chest, let himself be coddled and carried.

And still, he whispered, "Father..."

Clark's breath caught in his throat, though he wasn't sure why. Clearly Damian was delusional from blood loss and injury, it didn't mean anything.

Bruce stepped up beside him, staring intently down at his boy.

But then Jon jerked, twisting in Bruce's arms himself.

"Robin." He whined, reaching out. "D-Dami..."

"He's safe." Bruce rumbled gently, even as Jon slumped back against him. Bruce shifted his arms so he could reach up and carefully stroke at Jon's hair. "And so are you. Now rest, so your father and I can get you the help you need."

Clark smiled as they turned, began to walk side-by-side back towards the airship they had arrived in, desperately clutching at their boys.

"Do you think they know?" Clark hummed, as they slowly began to escape the eerie fog, and got a safe distance away. When they knew no one else would be coming after their children.

Bruce glanced up. "Know?"

"That it's not their dads carrying them right now."

Bruce paused, then actually _smiled_.

“If they do, they don’t care.” Bruce surmised. “If they don’t, then. Well. I guess you and I are too much alike.”

Clark snorted. “Is that truly such a terrible thing?”

"…No." Bruce decided after a moment. Kept his smile as he looked over at Damian, and then down at Jon. Even let that grin deepen, just a little. “I suppose it is not.”

Clark mimicked the action – peeked at Jon, and then focused on Damian, still wheezing painfully as he leaned gratefully into Clark’s chest – and decided he couldn’t agree more.


End file.
